Night Terrors
by funtime vash
Summary: My last story got such rave review i just had to write a new one. This is a much longer one with an actual plot. It shall get randy towards the end, but first there should be some good old fashioned adventuring, and of course lots of anguish.


So many people seemed to like my first little mini-catwoman/batman story I have decided to write another one. This one will be more then just tawdriness, though I am pretty sure it will end up with at least a few randy parts (). If you guys like it, I will continue the storyline. 

Selena stroked Clarissa softly, her fingers fondling the velvet fur. Her purring was like a motor, load and trembling. She felt it on her thighs, a pleasant vibration through her black satin dress.

"If it wasn't for you, darling, I would be in a much worse mood," she whispered sweetly in the cat's ear.

Just then a light tap on the door startled the calico out of her arms. She sighed, a long suffering sound that moved up and down her entire body like a wave. With a swish of her dress, she stood up to answer the door, her mouth twisted slightly into the beginnings of a frown.

She peeked through the peering hole in her door and saw him standing there, looking slightly uncomfortable in his black suit and pressed gray shirt, the narrow black tie out of place as it contrasted with his overbroad shoulders.

His obvious discomfort made her smile. The moment dragged on for several seconds, his eyes darting up and down the hallway, looking just a little miserable. Just as his hand reached up to tap again, she pulled the door open. He froze for a moment, hand in midair, then brought it back down to his side.

"Black is your color, Selena," he said in his smooth playboy voice.

"I hate waiting, Bruce."

"I have responsibilities, Selena," he said in a tense voice, making it obvious which responsibilities he was speaking of.

She glanced at her diamond encrusted platinum watch, then shrugged, "Well, we seemed to have missed our dinner reservations."

He laughed it off, the chuckle unnatural and fake, "You seem to forget who's taking you out tonight, my dear."

He took her hand and kissed it, his lips lingering for a moment.

"Darling, I have a favor to ask of you,"

"Anything for you," he said, suave and self-assured.

"Drop the little rich boy act or I fear I may have to slap you."

His plastic smiled slipped from his face, replaced with a small smirk that seemed much more at home. His eyes narrowed just a bit, and his jaw tensed. The joviality seemed to melt away, replaced by a raw intensity, a hard edge creeping into his eyes.

Selena stroked his cheek, "That is much more familiar."

"I doubt I'll be able to keep it up. I can't get comfortable in these clothes, in those places. The Blue Room is going to be full of sycophants and simpering socialites, and they'll all be expecting somebody different," he said, avoiding her glance.

She rolled her eyes and shook her head twice, a brisk movement that ruffled her cascade of jet black hair. Though she knew his charade was quite necessary at times, she hated it, hated every moment that plastic mask of cheerfulness covered his features, smoothing out the hard edges of his face. This was the first time they had actually allowed themselves anything like a normal night together.

The last time they had seen each other, there had been fighting, and shouting, and rage. She still felt the sting of the bruise he'd left in retaliation for the scratches she'd left on him. However, there had also been lust, and passion, and a surprising tenderness that had left her reeling every time she thought of it. Several days later she'd found a note taped to her door, and she'd nearly giggled at the idea of it. Yet when 7 pm rolled around she'd been waiting dressed to impress, her eyeliner meticulously applied and pancake makeup hiding the faded bruises on her face. Not of all them were from the fabled Batman, of course. They were an occupational hazard for a thief like herself, much as his were, though what he did at night was normally on the opposite side of the spectrum.

"I'm still not sure this is a good idea, darling."

"I... You may be right," he said in a gruff voice.

On a whim, she kissed his nose. He tensed for a moment, then a half smile slid on his face.

"That was uncharacteristically cute, Selena."

She rolled her eyes, then took his hand and led him down the hall. Her heels clicked on the hardwood floor as she walked, and his eyes followed the movement of her sinuous body. Part of him instantly regretted his weakness, his hypocrisy. Yet his face felt flushed just from the feeling of her small hand enveloped in his. That watch on her wrist, the glittering bauble he knew she'd worn just to infuriate him, had most certainly been stolen from a debutante recently burglarized. He didn't bother to ask. In fact, he refused. The ensuing fight would be much to draining.

Yet he couldn't resist stopping to take a look at it. As they stopped at the elevator he fingered the watch, his eyes narrowed as he saw the half smile playing across her lips.

"She won't even miss it, Bats. I promise," she said in a low playful voice.

He let it go for the moment, but his sigh reeked of disapproval and disappointment. Quite often these days she had specific reasons for picking a particular victim, some justification that made her thievery seem logical. This time she didn't even try. She challenges him with her eyes to start the argument. Her smirk dared him to try to take it.

He battled with himself, weighing the options. His first instinct was to try to take it, to return it to it's rightful owner. But then it would begin between them. The fighting, the struggle, her nails and his fists and her kicks, and they would end hating each other for another night, and cursing themselves afterwards.

The ding of the elevator broke the icy tension of the moment. With a wink, she slipped inside. He followed her inside, and stood near her, facing her, their faces inches apart.

"You do it on purpose. I know this."

She responded with a laugh, and he held her wrists tight at her side. Her breathing became just a touch heavier as he squeezed.

"Stop it, Selena."

She kissed him at that moment, full on. Her lips struggled against his, her tongue sliding into his mouth and running across his even teeth. He held her tight, their breaths deep and heavy. The feel of here breasts against his chest was maddening, the hard knot between his legs pressed against her made her tremble. And then they were there, on the ground floor, and the doors were opening. He pulled away from her, disentangling himself with difficulty. Her chest heaved, and he smiled to know he had affected her so. Her façade of calm cool collected control had slipped, and he loved it.

Alfred was waiting at the front in his old-fashioned car. He opened the door with a smile for both of them, then closed the opaque glass window between the passenger and driver. They were alone, their hands entwined.

Batman, as he always called himself, even when out of the uniform, chided himself again for his foolishness, for his lack of control. Since their last encounter, he'd been replaying in his head the feel of the warmth her bare flesh, the sight of her breasts with their dark pert nipples, the sound of her low rumbling moans, almost like purring. He wanted her, needed her. The longing to posses her, to drive himself into her while she screamed, filled him completely, until he was certain it was she who possessed him and always had.

It wasn't long before they were in each other's arms, their mouth interlocking as their hands explored the other's curves. He rubbed her nipples through her satin dress until they were hard nubs while they both strained to press closer to each other. By the time they reached the restaurant, she was soaked, her panties sticking to her and even to the skirt of her dress, while his erection was a struggling monster aching to break free from his pants. They were both panting openly when Alfred opened the door for them. With a cursory glance in a handheld mirror, Selena reapplied her lipstick, then rubbed it off his lips, check and neck.

She winked at him, and it seemed very vulgar on her face. He hated the look and loathed himself all over again.

By the time they were seated, his aggravation had become a palpable thing. She sensed it, and refused to bring it up. They ate in tense silence, interrupted by the occasional tittering female or suave playboy. So preoccupied was he with his own guilt at what he was doing, he didn't even try to be Bruce. They left worried, thinking him in the grips of some sort of emotional instability.

As the check came, they both realized the evening had turned sour. His eyes had a haunted tone to them, and she grew more bitter at it with every pasing moment.

"Who are we kidding, Bruce?" she said in a low voice. "You will never accept who I am, and you'll always hate yourself for your feelings towards me."

"I—"

The piercing screams rang out as the lights went out. Most were for dramatic effect, falsetto sounds followed by a few laughs.

However, the screams that drifted through from outside were quite real.

His eyes narrowed in the dark, and they both gave each other a knowing look.


End file.
